I am having a real kick getting down the events that took place during the summers of 1966 & 1965 and might go into 1966 just a bit if I still feel like it.
Giving up summer baseball and asking Dutch if I could spend the summer as a full time hand on the rig was a big decision for a guy who had just finished his Junior Year in high school. The previous summer had been my last in Babe Ruth League ball. Now I had to decide on Pony League and possibly high school ball. The big problem here was that Bryan was going to be on probation for the next two years and hopes were not high.
There would be no more lazy mornings and afternoons laying around and doing absolutely nothing; well maybe going to the pool every now and then. There would also be zero time with my friends; I would be somewhere else. Oh, maybe I would see them on a weekend every now and then but probably not many times during the entire summer.
Who knows where the jobs would take us, but you can bet they would – and they did.
Remembering back to those high-line days cutting across country and the greasy, warm cheese, hang down and onion lunches is fun to do. Operating the dozer and towing the rig, water truck and pickup from hole to hole up in East Texas sand was about the filthiest part of the first summer – not necessarily the muddiest, but filthiest.
Then there was the summer of 1965 and the travel unmatched by the previous summer. We seemed to be everywhere and pretty much were.
Good days, great guys to work with and some tough, but sometimes funny experiences.
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